


Lions and Jennies and Bears

by CalamityJess



Series: Moira 'Mo' Trevelyan [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-29
Updated: 2015-05-29
Packaged: 2018-04-01 20:42:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4033891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityJess/pseuds/CalamityJess





	Lions and Jennies and Bears

“ _Don’t make this harder than it has to be_ ,” Moira Trevelyan repeated Blackwall’s words in a mocking tone as she paced Cullen’s office.

For Cullen’s part he sat there quietly, pouring a glass of Brandy for each of them.

“Of all the stubborn, mule-headed, obstinate, self-righteous… What is wrong with your species? This is _your_ fault you know,” she ranted, taking her glass.

“Whoa, slow down. Just how is this my fault?” Cullen asked.

“You had to throw another title at me! How many do I need exactly?” she answered.

“Well, to be fair you were born with one of them,” he pointed out.

“Beside the point,” Moira groused. “Her Worship, Inquisitor, Herald of Andraste. It’s ridiculous enough without it making him think that the duty that came with it is reason to push me away,” she said.

Cullen swirled the drink in his hand. Moira (Mo as her friends called her) was certainly an amazing woman. He’d quickly found a friendship with her in the days at Haven. After interrupting her prayers one evening to partake in his own, they’d quickly realized they shared not only their faith, but a love of history, and books as well as a desire to serve. She never put herself above anyone, although she was born and raised in a noble house. She had been educated at the University in Orlais, she had told him, and had desired to not only serve as a Sister within the Chantry but also as a scholar like Brother Genitivi, whose work she greatly admired. Even in the face of seeing those desires crumble with the Conclave that fateful day, she had yet to indulge in self-pity. She had dug in and helped, bringing them through what could have been the end of the fledgling Inquisition. To see her in such a state over affairs of the heart was surprising, if not slightly amusing.

“You’re grinning Cullen… Why are you grinning? This is not funny,” Mo pointed out.

“Since the day you fell out of the Fade, you’ve put duty ahead of everything else, even before you became Inquisitor. Yet, when Blackwall does the same it displeases you,” Cullen answered, a chuckle slipping out.

“The irony is not lost on me,” Mo replied, holding her glass forward for Cullen to refill, “and if that makes me a hypocrite then so be it. Add it to heretic and blasphemer and make more titles of it.”

“As one of your advisors, I suggest patience. The man certainly cares about you a great deal,” Cullen offered.

“I thought he did, but I’m not so sure, and I don’t see how you can be,” Moira said.

“While you were…missing, in Haven, it was all we could do to keep him from charging back into the drifts to search for you. It took three of us to restrain him those first hours. Thank the Maker Bull was able to talk some sense into him,” Cullen smiled.

Moira felt a smile tug at her lips as she finished her second glass of Cullen’s stash of Brandy. She’d owe him a bottle or two if this kept up.

“Then why does he keep pushing me away?” she wondered aloud.

“It can be…difficult for a man sworn to a duty such as Blackwall to allow himself to see his own potential happiness as anything but selfish, inappropriate even,” Cullen answered, with a note of sadness.

Moira thought for a moment. He was right. It made sense. She wanted to ask how he knew, but there were things Cullen wasn’t prepared to discuss, and she respected that too much to pry. All her time studying at university and assisting in the chantry hadn’t taught her a Maker damned thing when it came to romance. What little knowledge of the subject she had was of arranged marriages and politics interspersed with heroic tales of courtly knights and distressed damsels. None of those things had prepared her for the way her cheeks would warm when a sword calloused hand would help her down from her horse, or the flutter of her pulse when blue-gray eyes would crinkle at the corners with a warm smile and a ‘milady’ just for her. She had thought after they found his badge at the Storm Coast something would give, but it seemed like he was trying to scare her away with his explanation of his life. As though her own wasn’t filled to the brim with old ruins, endless fighting, and death.  
  
“So, oh wise advisor…what do you suggest?” she asked.

“Don’t give up. If this is what you want, fight for it. I think he’ll come around,”  
Cullen answered. “For now, however, we should both get back to work.”

“Slave driver,” Moira replied rising to leave, dropping a kiss on Cullen’s cheek by way of thanks.

It always amused her the way he blushed at such things. He reminded her much of her older brother who had always blushed and squirmed in the face of her affections. They were actually very much alike, and it made her feel less homesick.

When she was out of view, Cullen grabbed a quill and parchment.

_Sera,_  
_Thank you for the cake, I was in fact hungry. As to the other issue, nudge the bear. Gently._  
_-C_

* * *

 

He had needed time to think after taking the Inquisitor to that ruin on the Storm Coast, he’d told her they could talk when they returned to Skyhold. He still hadn’t worked up the nerve. Instead he’d let Sera drag him to the tavern, where he now sat staring into his ale and thinking of bright blue eyes flecked with green around the centers, intricately coiffed blonde hair that made him wonder how far it would fall when unpinned, and a smile that he wanted to be the cause of.

“You’re brooding again, Beardy,” Sera teased.

“I am not brooding, Sera, I’m _thinking_ ,” Blackwall answered.

“What’s to think about? You like her, she likes you, so get to it already!” Sera said, a bit too loudly for his liking.

“It’s not that simple. She’s a _Lady_ , the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste, I have nothing to offer her,” Blackwall argued.

“That’s shite,” Sera threw back.

“That’s fact, Sera,” Blackwall said.

“No, it’s shite. _Chicken_ shite, yeah? I know people. You’re good people, she’s good people, that’s the only facts that matter,” Sera replied.

How could he make her understand? He had no future, nothing to give any woman let alone a lady like Moira. His life was fighting monsters and demons, and ghosts.

“If only it were that easy,” Blackwall muttered into his ale.

“You’re the one making it hard…oh wait no, _she is_ ” Sera answered waggling her brows.

“Maker’s balls, Sera!” Blackwall groaned, “Listen, she deserves someone younger, smarter, someone that can give her everything she desires, a future, and that someone isn’t me, much as I wish otherwise.”

“She deserves some happiness, and _you’re_ what she desires you big tit, and none of us may get a future with this Coryphy-shit going on. We could all die tomorrow. Andraste’s tits worry about later _later_ ,” Sera threw back.

“That sounded almost wise,” Blackwall answered.

“Yeah well don’t be spreadin’ it ‘round. I’m just makin’ sure my meat shield isn’t distracted by his navel before we go to Crestwood tomorrow,” Sera grinned. “Now get up there before I stick an arrow in your arse.”

Blackwall raised his hands in surrender and wisely backed out the tavern door. He could see Moira’s back as she helped tend the wounded in the courtyard. If he was quick enough he could make it to her quarters before she was through.

_C-_

_Bear is poked. You’re welcome!_

_-S_

* * *

 

Blackwall stood on the balcony outside Moira’s quarters. He could think of a thousand reasons why this was wrong, not the least of which being that it was downright creepy standing out there waiting for her to show up. On the other hand maybe that would solve all of their problems and she’d be so disgusted she’d kick him right out of Skyhold. He heard the click of the door, and briefly considered jumping off the balcony to escape. Instead, he found himself transfixed by the sight of her, with her back to him unpinning her hair. Maker’s breath, she was going to be the death of him, he thought as he watched all of that blonde hair fall past her hips. He took a step forward into the light to lean against the door. When she turned and looked at him, he realized there was no escaping now.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away forever,” Moira said, a soft smile on her lips.

“No, I couldn’t,” he growled. “Do you have any idea how confounding you are? How impossibly infuriating?”

And she was. Even now she simply stood there, patiently, with that look in her eyes like she was seeing something in him that didn’t exist.

“I…I wanted to thank you for accompanying me to that ruin. I…” he struggled. _Damn it, just tell her the truth for once in your damned life_ , he scolded himself.

“I just had to see you,” he finally admitted as he succumbed to the desire to pull her close and kiss her.

Maker, she felt so good in his arms. Like she belonged there. He could feel her smile against his lips, hear a contented sigh as she pressed herself closer. He wanted to hear it again and again but…no, he had to stop this, it wasn’t fair to either of them, but especially her. It took everything he had to pull away.

“No, this is wrong…I shouldn’t even _be_ here,” he said.

He watched as confusion and hurt filled her eyes, as she shook her head slightly trying to register what was happening. He told himself it was better this hurt now, than the pain that would surely come later. It sounded cowardly and weak even to him. But this wasn’t about him, it was for her.

“It doesn’t _feel_ wrong,” she said, still not taking her eyes away from his. He wished she would, it would make this so much easier.

“I want to give in…Maker knows how much I wish I could, but I’m not what you want and I could never be what you deserve,” he told her.

“You’re wrong. You’re a good man, and you don’t get to decide what I want,” she countered.

“Am I?” he asked, wishing he could just for a moment see himself the way she did.

“I see it,” she said softly, placing her hand over his heart, “right _there_.” She smiled up at him.

She was right, this was her choice to make., but he wanted her to make it with her eyes open.

“There’s _nothing_ I can offer you. You’ll have no life with me, but I…,” he began. No he couldn’t, he shouldn’t. She should run as far from him as possible and not look back.

“I need you to end this, because _I can’t_ ,” he finished.

It was in her hands now. It was a coward’s way out and he knew it. But this had to be her choice. His head prayed that she’d send him packing, but his heart prayed she wouldn’t.

“I’m _not_ letting you go, Blackwall,” she answered. Her voice was soft, but determined. She had made her choice.

“We’ll regret this, my lady,” he said, one last weak attempt at a warning.

She drew closer, and closer until her breath tickled his throat. Rising on her toes, she pressed a kiss to to corner of his mouth.

“Do you regret _that_?” she asked with a grin.

 _Worry about later, later_. Sera’s words rang in his head. Indeed. Damn ‘later’ to the void, he thought, pulling the woman who had stolen his heart into his arms.

“Only if it were to never happen again, my lady,” he answered.

Maker help them both.

 


End file.
